


Spikey Mikey

by Styx_in_the_mud



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Reinterpretation of a classic, implied suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styx_in_the_mud/pseuds/Styx_in_the_mud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My entry for the letsdrawsherlock project (interpretation of classics). This is a teeny tiny story based off of A Cask of Amantillado by Poe. I hope you like. Oh there is a little bit of violence. I don't think it's too graphic, but you have been warned. It's a working title, because I suck at titles okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spikey Mikey

**Author's Note:**

> As a writey type person, this is my entry for letsdrawsherlock

 

 

 

Carl Powers was a bully, to put it bluntly, and frankly I could deal with him no longer. I, being his favorite victim, vowed to have my revenge for every one of his tortures. But I never said anything, never even hinted that I may be plotting something sinister, because honestly, where’s the fun in that? No, I would deal with Carl Powers in a clever way. In such a way that no one would even suspect the quiet little boy in the back of the class. 

You see, the thing about Carl Powers was that he, along with every other child in the UK, collected  _Garbage Pail Kids_ trading cards. It was the only thing he and I had in common. But unlike most of the others, Powers was an expert. He could spot a fake card within a minute. I would use this to my advantage. His greatest pride would become his greatest weakness. I set my plan in motion during the annual school fair. I bumped into him, quite literally, near the ring-toss booth.

“Watch where you’re going, you little twerp!”

“Powers! My mistake, of course. Incidentally, I’ve been looking for you. I need your help,you see”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion ”Why should I help you?”

“I’ve heard that you’re a bit of an expert when it comes to Garbage Pail Kids. Well, I have come across” I lowered my voice, causing him to lean in “a ‘Spikey Mikey’ card in mint condition, but I’m not sure if it’s genuine”      I raised my voice again “But since you’re not interested, I could always ask Smith to take a look at it…”

“Smith doesn’t know shit!”

I smiled, he was hooked “Well in that case you better come with me.”

I lead him out of the fair grounds, and deep into the nearby woods. I had built a club house there years ago, and it was there we stopped. Powers stared at the door, on which I had carved a picture of my own design, a gigantic Python, squeezing the life out of a dragon. He whistled.

“That’s a bit creepy, Twerp.”

“Well, if it makes you uncomfortable, we could always go back” I said, and I turned around, as though prepared to return the way we came.

“No, no, show me the card”

“Well, if you insist.” I took a torch from my bag and opened the door. The only source of light was the weak beam of my torch. My club house was quite large, and I shone my light onto the opposite wall. “The card is in the cubby” I said, barely hiding my glee.

Powers strode purposely toward the cubby, and I followed silently behind. “Hey, there’s nothing in here you lying little shit!” He shouted, and attempted to lung at me. But while he had been hunting in the little cubby hole, I had shackled his other arm to a solid beam on the wall using a pair of…borrowed… handcuffs. He couldn’t touch me.

“We can still go back, you know” I taunted. He could only stare at me in shock. “No? well alright then…”

“MORIARTY YOU LITTLE SHIT! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

I smiled and leaned against a crate, watching as he screamed and twisted, trying to escape, my torch making eerie shadows on the opposite wall. Every movement was kicking up a cloud of dust, for the clubhouse hadn’t been used in years. The air was hardly breathable. I watched until he grew hoarse and I grew bored. Then, I opened the crate, revealing planks of wood and mortar, and I slowly began to create a tomb, one that left no room for movement, and no space to breathe.

“Moriarty, please.” His voice broke, but I simply laughed and continued with my work. “Enjoy your new home, Powers” I called in a sing-song voice. There was no reply. “Powers?” Nothing. I couldn’t breathe - but only because of the dust which now thickened the air. I got up, and rid the area of any evidence of my activities. Before I left, I carved on the wall: Vindicta dulcis.

 

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s the end. The story was inspired by A Cask of Amantillado by Edgar Allen Poe. I chose to use this story because the narrator of Cask has always seemed pretty unstable to me, and when I saw this challenge, I immediately equated him with Moriarty. Also, as I am completely incapable of writing entirely serious works, I chose to use the trading cards (Which actually do exist btw) instead of wine as the bait. Anyway, I hope you like it, and I would just like to say that I actually felt a little claustrophobic while writing this, so yeah… Oh and the Latin means vengeance is sweet.


End file.
